


keep the love light glowing

by noblealice



Category: When Calls the Heart (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Handcuffs, Light Bondage, Oral Sex, POV Alternating, Porn with Feelings, Woman on Top, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-24 16:30:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15634461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noblealice/pseuds/noblealice
Summary: "She’s never felt more powerful than she does with her husband like this. She suspects that this feeling is what Helen chased across the Aegean Sea with Paris. That this is how Guinevere must have felt to leave her King and maybe even what Eve experienced to cause Eden to come crashing down at her feet. Elizabeth believes that wars were started and civilizations were destroyed by people who felt exactly like this."aka Five Times Constable Thornton is Restrained (And One Time Jack is Handcuffed)





	keep the love light glowing

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "Let Me Call You Sweetheart" by Leo Friedman and Beth Slater Whitson.
> 
> Un-beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

1.

 

“You could be a bit more help, you know!” She pushes at the curls that have begun to droop into her eyeline, the spring heat deflating whatever authority her hairpins had at the beginning of the day.

 

“I’m sorry Miss Thatcher, but my hands are all tied up right now.” She looks down and sure enough, his fingers are wrapped with string as a child is playing Cat’s Cradle with him.

 

He should probably ask the kid what her name is, but he doesn’t want to give the imperious Miss Thatcher the satisfaction. Instead he watches as she rolls her eyes and huffs out a breath.

 

“I was hoping you’d say a few words to the older boys, get them to stop fighting at least!” Her dress is too frilly for his tastes and impractical for the frontier but her chest is rising and falling in a distracting fashion. He tells himself to focus on her black eye.

 

“Now, if I remember correctly, someone looking an awful lot like you told me that she could handle anything. I’d hate to step on her toes.”

 

“You’re being deliberately obtuse and unhelpful. I expected better from one of His Majesty’s servicemen.”

 

He flashes her his best Sunday smile. “Careful now, you’ll hurt my feelings soon.”

  
  
  
  


2.

 

“Now, now. We can’t have you alerting your friends. So you’re going to be a good little school teacher and tie up your moutie beau before coming with me.”

 

Elizabeth walks toward him like she’s going to be tying a noose around his neck, her face is pale and serious. By his count it’s the second time in her life she’s had a loaded pistol pointed at her back and her mouth is set with a serious frown.

 

Luckily, for all her progress in Hope Valley, Elizabeth still can’t tie anything more complicated than a weaver’s knot and although it’s not the quick release knot he was hoping for, her hands are shaking slightly so he’s not going to fault her for failing to read his mind at the moment.

 

“It’s going to be okay. I promise you that.” He manages to squeeze her fingers before the bandits start talking again.

 

“Enough! Back over here.” Elizabeth gives him one last searing look before turning. “I said now!” She scurries over to the man with the gun.

 

“You don’t have to take her. Leave her be and I won’t have to add a kidnapping charge along with attempted bank robbery.”

 

“I don’t plan on getting caught.”

 

“Didn’t you know?” He’s staring straight at her as he says, “Mounties always catch their man.”  She nods, still afraid but he can see that steel spine start to push through. The determination that got her across the country to teach in the saloon of a mining town is breathtaking.

 

She’s not his girl (yet), but he couldn’t be more proud.

 

 

 

3. 

 

“Children! Children, you come back right this instant!”  She tries the church door again, as though it will have magically opened despite the rather sturdy barricade that’s been erected on the other side. She turns toward him, the picture of defeat. “I hate April Fools day, it's a blight on humanity if you ask me”.

 

Oh, and in this moment he loves her so much it's almost painful to keep locked inside.

 

She looks tired but she adjusts her waist and lets out the smallest sigh, like she’s putting the whole ordeal behind her to look at with fresh eyes and it’s such a small change of expression he’s lucky to have noticed it, that or he’s really done for, no more use trying to pretend.

 

She's wildly beautiful right now with a fire inside and he wants to preserve this minute forever, except he doesn't think even the best photograph would do it justice.

 

He isn’t given any time to ponder that, though. “Jack, they've locked us in!”

 

He smiles at her, lazy and content. He’s been in worse binds. “I’m sure the town can manage without us for a few hours.”

 

She sails past him to try the other door, as if the children might have forgotten it. He can smell her perfume and wants to breathe it in. She’s only been back from Hamilton for such a short time and it still doesn’t feel real yet. He wants a lot of foolish things, which must be why he challenges her with his best smile, “but however will we pass the time?“

 

Of course, he should know by now that he should never tease Elizabeth, he’s hopelessly outmatched once she sets her mind to flirting with him and he’s always left feeling like he’s just eaten with the wrong fork at her parents house as she looked up through her lashes at him; embarassed and dizzy with lust.

 

Back in Hope Valley, she flashes him a toothy grin like a cat that’s just found a gallon of cream. Her outfit of a --- shirt and pleated skirt is more modest than the lower necklines she favoured in the electric warm of Hamilton but he feels just as flushed as when she first walked down those stairs to greet him.

 

“We were talking about local flora and fauna. _The birds and the bees_ , if you will.” She walks toward him, all hips and decadent city-girl promises. “Do you want me to go over the lesson with you?”

 

He coughs and tries not to blush. Idly, he wonders if she ever discussed ‘lesson plans’ with her beaus in Hamilton and then feels bitterly guilty.

 

He can’t keep focusing on the past when she’s tried so hard to prove to him that her future is in Hope Valley, so he moves to grab her hand in apology.

 

He’s glad he never says half the things he thinks when he’s around Elizabeth, an exercise that started out as mere survival during those first months when she kept turning his world over on its axis and that he’s now turned into habit. His own brain isn’t safe around her smiles. A man could damn near incriminate himself just to see one. Yes, it’s best to just be silent and ask for forgiveness for his traitorous thoughts in other ways.

 

He brings her hand up to his lips, eyes meeting hers. “I hope you know that there’s no one I’d rather be stuck with.”

  
  
  
  


 

4.  
  


“Elizabeth? Can you move your fingers? How’s the circulation to your wrists?”

 

“Jack, I can’t stop the horse. I don’t know what to do or where we’re going. I--”

 

“Elizabeth, I need you to calm down. Take a deep breath.”

 

“It’s getting dark, Jack.” She’s pressed up fully against him and the fear in her voice makes him feel angry all over again at the men who did this to him, to Elizabeth.

 

His blood is burning with rage but there’s also a feeling that he’s ashamed of; a smaller part of him feels like his ribcage has been cracked open to expose his vulnerable, beating heart.

 

He’s suddenly glad Elizabeth is seated behind him, arms wrapped around his waist, glad that she can’t look into his soul and see the desire tightly coiled there.

 

He’d been blindfolded before they spooked the horse they’re both tied to and without his eyesight, their breathing feels overloud and carnal. He can feel each breath as it fills her lungs and pushes her breasts against his back. They are round and firm and he’s wanted to test the weight of them in his hands for two years now. He can’t believe that the first time his body is feeling them outside of a waltz is through the back of his red serge.

 

He fumbles with the knot again; it’s similar to a clove hitch but with one end passed under the other, forming an overhand knot under a riding turn and it seems to tighten when he moves.

 

“Elizabeth, I have a knife in my inner coat pocket, on my left side. You’ll have to undo the buttons and free it. Then I can cut our bonds.”

 

He wishes he had a way with words; something to reassure her but he never knows what to say to ease the ache in his heart where Elizabeth is concerned.  He can only hope his actions will do their work in showing how he feels.

 

“You need to unbutton my coat and remove the knife. We can do this together, step by step.”

 

“Together. I like the sound of that.”

 

She fumbles with his buttons and slowly works them loose as he tries to focus on the sounds of the forest around him instead of the intimate feeling of Elizabeth’s fumbling fingers and the cold air suddenly being exposed to his chest. “My left side pocket now.”

 

Her hands are stil so delicate and smooth, he tries not to shiver as she reaches in and brushes up against the worn cotton of his undershirt.

 

“Do you think someone might find us?”

 

He doesn’t, actually. They’re known to take late night walks and rides at dusk and no one in town is expecting them. They’re probably on their own tonight.

 

“‘Course. Bill is probably out now looking and Abigail is worried sick. Pass me the knife carefully so we don’t drop it and we’ll be back before she can stress-bake any more scones.”

 

“You’re a terrible liar, Jack. But thank you.”

 

“Maybe we’ll keep this horse. You need one of your own. Start thinking of names while I work on these ropes.”

 

“What if we don’t agree on a name?”

 

“I have a feeling I”ll like whatever you choose.”

 

“I’ll remember that in the future.” And he’s so thrown by a future situation where they’re deciding names together that the knife slips slightly, cutting briefly into his palm.

 

“Let’s just focus on the here and now, please.” He lets out a bit hoarsely, glad again that Elizabeth is behind him and can’t see his mental flailings.

 

“All right, I’ll start with naming the horse and we’ll work our way towards other things as the situation calls for it.”

  
  
  
  
  


 

5.

 

“Come on in, I’ll make you breakfast.” Elizabeth grins at him, and she looks truly happy and at ease in what he suspects is the first time in months.

 

He feels pleased to have put that expression on her face and his returning smile is an easy one. “You read my mind.”

 

He should probably take in more of the Christmas decorations about the town and see everything that’s changed in the six months he’s been gone. Instead, he’s pacing the floorboards of Elizabeth’s row house, waiting while she gets rid of Rosie outside, pulling down on his jacket like a nervous school boy with a crush on teacher.

 

He spins on his heel when Elizabeth returns and closes the door behind her.

 

“You know, I’m not very hungry. Not for your oatmeal, at least.”

 

He advances, backing her up against the door, hands roaming up and down her sides as he tries to memorize the curves that have been his comfort and torment these past, lonely months.

 

“Jack,” her voice is high and breathy and the best sound in the world as he kisses her. But he doesn’t want to disrespect her. Just because he’s been a homesick fool doesn’t mean he can take advantage. He’s about to break off their kiss when he hears her whimper, “don’t stop.”

 

Like a release, he’s pressing himself against her, his tongue darting out to taste the skin of her neck. He feels just as exhilarated as when on the chase with Sargeant and he might be breathing as hard too, her kisses leave him feeling dizzy and alive.

 

The tips of his fingers brush up against the top of her corset and an electricity crackles between them. They don’t have much time before school and Jack half expects Elizabeth to tell him that’s enough. Instead her hands have moved to his shoulders, no longer holding on but pushing his jacket down his arms.

 

“I need to feel you, Jack.”  
  


He agrees. He wants to undo every last button and lathe his tongue against the creamy pale skin he uncovers. Most of all he wants to help, wants to feel more of her skin but his arms are trapped by the rough tweed, bunching up at the elbows.

 

They break apart long enough to giggle at the situation and he rests his forehead against hers, breathing in her scent of her familiar perfume. He attempts a shoulder roll and is about to ask for help when Elizabeth pulls him by his exposed suspenders and swaps their places, so he’s the one who is backed up against the door, his arms trapped behind him.

 

Her lips move to the shell of his ear, where she whispers, “Definitely not a dream. I always wake up before the best part”. He just nods dumbly, a tiny part of him wondering what she means but the larger part not caring one whit when her tongue is licking at him like a lap cat.

 

It shouldn’t surprise him that she has dreamed of their married life, had he really forgotten so soon that Elizabeth is constantly a wonder? He widens his stance though and angles his hips, because his cock certainly hasn’t forgotten that good things always follow that minx-like expression on her perfect face.

 

She moves back enough to give him the space he needs to shed his jacket, freeing his hands to cup her head, tilting it for his kiss.

 

“Touch me, Jack.” What man could refuse an entreaty like that? His palms drift down from her silky hair to cup her breasts through her corset and stays. He wishes there were no barriers between them. He thinks she wishes it too but there’s a sharp rap on the door by his head before he can even feel shame for manhandling her like a common sailor.

 

“Miss Thatcher, you promised we’d walk to school together!”

 

There’s no giggling this time. Just his traitorous heart pounding loudly in his ears as he attempts to get himself more or less under control. When he dares to look at her again, faces barely a few inches apart, noses almost touching, both of them crammed tightly together in her entryway and he feels a different type of jolt run through him.

 

“I guess we best not keep them waiting.”

  
  
  
  
  


&

  
  


“Trust me.” She says with more bravado than she feels, one hand on his cheek and the other on his shoulder.

 

They've been married now almost nine months and five of them have been spent with him on assignment either at Cape Fullerton or more training of new recruits. They moved into their house on Jack’s land and officially said goodbye to her row house the last time he was home and she’s glad they have so much space to explore the new boundaries of their married relationship. (It doesn’t hurt that the nearest neighbour is five miles away.)

 

She’s grateful to have him back with her after another absence but more than that she feels greedy. She wants to explore him in ways he hasn’t allowed before. Sex with Jack is wonderful but he’s always grabbing at her and hauling her up to his mouth when she tries to touch him.

 

It's sublime to kiss him for long stretches of time that feel like heavenly bliss, but she's a curious woman and she doesn't intend to be interrupted again. She even stopped by the jail after school while Jack was on his rounds to borrow a spare pair of handcuffs.

 

Jack sits warily on their marriage bed, his eyes conveying the confusion he won't voice -- he trusts her through and through.

 

“Take off your boots.” She commands, ruffling his hair through her fingers; it’s without the usual pomade he puts in and he looks softer without it, less official and more like an ordinary husband. He obeys and is soon barefoot with his flannel shirt following. There’s something hedonistic about the combination, seeing his casual confidence contrasted with this vulnerability of his bare feet makes her stomach dip. But now is not a time for girlish apprehension.  
  


“Hands behind your back.” She instructs, every bit the stern school teacher on the outside.

 

She leans over him, her hair falling down his back and into her face but she’s too focused on her task to push it away. His breath is hot against her clavicle and she thinks she can feel the flutter of his long lashes against her skin. She doesn’t fumble with the handcuffs, some sort of supernatural calm taking over and making her fingers nimble and capable even when she feels like butterflies are threatening to burst forth from her belly. She hears the click from far away and moves back to examine her handiwork.

 

She doesn’t want to hurt him so she leaves room between the metal and his skin but it still looks wrong somehow. She retreats to her bureau where she still has some older handkerchiefs and tucks them in around his wrists, hoping to prevent any bruising.

 

She strokes her hand up and down his back when she finishes, trying to soothe any discomfort he might feel. Now that his arms are restrained behind him, he seems to have understood part of her purpose. She tried not to clasp the cuffs too tight but he does look a handsome sight with his shoulders pulled back, broadening his chest and his undershirt pushed up to expose his stomach.

 

He wriggles slightly, testing the cuffs and she knows it’s not meant to be seductive, Jack apologized after pressing himself up against her when they were still courting for goodness sake, it’s just that he looks so appetizing. He’s perfectly at attention for the sole purpose of doing as she wishes tonight. It’s a potent feeling to have Jack completely at her mercy after months spent worrying about him.

 

She fits her whole palm against his sternum, not exerting any pressure, just to show that it’s there, that it’s hers. The RCMP may be his calling but here in their house he belongs to her completely.

 

She works to unbutton his pants and smoothes her hands down his thighs. He sucks in a breath through his nose and she smiles up at him in reassurance. He looks like a statue by a Greek master, all defined muscles and alabaster skin just waiting for her to bring to life with a touch.

 

She hums at him, eyes going half-lidded as she licks her lips, first she unclasps his suspenders  then she watches as he lifts his hips to help her drag his pants and underwear down maddeningly slow.

 

She starts by taking him in hand and even now she’s still surprised by the silky heat of him. She licks a stripe down his length before swirling her tongue over the tip.

 

When she pulls back she dares take a peek up at him and Jack looks wrecked, in the best of ways. She grins possessively into his thigh and continues to stroke him, loving the way the he fills out and stiffens in response to her touch. He tries to keep quiet, but isn't quite able to stop his low moan when she twists her wrist on an upstroke.

 

She lets herself feel the rush of excitement then, the warmth pooling in the pit of her stomach, the tingling sensation on the tips of her fingers, the sweat on her nape and her palms, the heat on her cheeks.

 

Elizabeth forgets about everything else right then, her world narrowing down to Jack. The intensity of his brown eyes, and the wonderful way that he’s at her mercy, unable to reach out to her, to touch her, to do anything but let her take him apart with her tongue and her hands.

 

She keeps working him with her mouth, sucking and kissing but she snakes one hand down herself, tweaking a nipple through her nightgown as she travels lower to the juncture of her legs, fingers seeking out the area that will send a delectable zing through her veins.

 

He makes a sound at that, once he notices that she’s touching herself too. So she pauses for a moment, just taking in the sight of him, and Jack shifts on the bed. He already looks thoroughly debauched, with pieces of hair stuck to his forehead and a thin sheen of sweat covering his whole body, his skin slightly pink all over. She savors this moment, her chest tightening at the sight; after all they’d been through, to have this is a miracle she promises not to squander.

 

She’s never felt more powerful than she does with her husband like this. She suspects that this feeling is what Helen chased across the Aegean Sea with Paris. That this is how Guinevere must have felt to leave her King and maybe even what Eve experienced to cause Eden to come crashing down at her feet. Elizabeth believes that wars were started and civilizations were destroyed by people who felt exactly like this.

 

Her body is singing with pleasure and with pride at making him feel so strongly that he’s not even using words anymore, just panting into her hand, while small grunts from the back of his throat work themselves free from his lips.

 

Jack usually controls himself so much with her, despite everything they’ve been through, she often feels like delicate french lace he fears will tear at the slightest tug. But with his arms restrained he’s releasing himself over to the experience completely, his hips lifting up to fuck her mouth as she sucks and takes as much of him in as she can.

 

“You’ve got to stop Elizabeth,” he begs. “Darling, please.”

 

It’s the ‘darling’ that makes her pause and eventually remove her lips. He’s never called her anything other than her name before and his voice was hoarse with some new emotion they’re just discovering together.

 

She feels a bit selfish, taking and taking from him. Touching herself and him while he can’t do anything himself to relieve the pressure that must be building inside of him, just like it’s threatening to overwhelm her. But she takes one last hungry kiss before removing herself and standing back up.

 

She gives the barest tap on his shoulder with her fingers and he twists for her perfectly, so she doesn’t have to bend over him again to unlock and release the handcuffs. She strokes her fingers around his wrists then up and down his arms as he stretches and rolls his shoulders.

 

“Did I hurt you? Can you feel your fingers?”

 

He gives her a look that tells her that there’s only one body part he’s feeling at the moment and it’s not his damn hand. Nevertheless, she keeps stroking his arms, soothing and shushing before getting up to get a glass of water for them both from the basin.

 

He takes a small sip, almost shy, and she hopes she didn’t ruin them with a hastily thought out plan. She deposits the empty glass on the wash stand, suddenly scared that she’s trespassed across something unspoken.

 

“Darling.” He repeats, arms open for her to walk into and she comes over to sit in his lap, knees bracing on the feather mattress beneath them. He slants his mouth over hers, his arms coming up to wrap around her and she gives herself into the kiss.

 

His thumbs slide up her side before moving to her nipples, rubbing tight circles into the pinks of her breasts. It feels wonderful and she grips his hair in delight.

 

She sits astride him, now enjoying the feeling of his hands on her skin again -- a self-enforced denial is still denial all the same and she missed the way his fingers grab at her when he gets excited like this. Soon his mouth moves to her neck and she chants his name at the feeling of her husband’s teeth on her pulse point.

 

“Darling,” she tests out the word against his lips, asking for something only he can give her.

 

He pauses his attentions only long enough to scoot back on the bed, his back now resting against the headboard,

 

She lifts herself off of his lap enough to position his cock at her entrance and sinks slowly down. She feels like they sigh the same breath and that their hearts beat in sync -- it feels absolutely amazing to have him fill her up after so much anticipation.

 

She stills for a moment when he’s fully inside her and then flexes, the soft sound of her breath creating a chorus with his own.  Jack arches his back and lifts his hips to hers almost involuntarily, and the faintest wisp of a smile lives at the corner of her lips.

 

He pumps up into her, hands on her hips to guide her movements. They begin slowly, speeding up as they find a rhythm that stutters only when he bends his knees up in a sudden shove so that Elizabeth falls forward and has to catch herself, the fingers of both her hands digging hard into his muscles. The change in the angle of him inside her is _exquisite_.

 

Elizabeth lets her eyes flutter closed and Jack leans up to capture her mouth in a kiss, threading his fingers through her hair to keep her where she'd fallen against him. "Beautiful," he whispers, his breath warm against her lips.

 

"Oh," she pants, pleasure building low in her belly and when she comes her orgasm is messy and perfect, wracking her body with shudders.

 

His hands squeeze her hips and hold them tight, a muted gasp escaping his lips when she clenches around him. He finishes up into her with staccato thrusts and a final, strangled, “darling.”

 

She should move off of him now, but she lingers because she wants to tuck his whole self into her body for safekeeping, like a picture in a locket. She knows she can’t ask him not to leave her again, not when he loves what he does as much as she loves teaching, but her arms wrap around him in a vise grip all the same.

 

Now he’s the one soothing her, his hands coasting up her arms in a tender caress.

 

“I like it better when you’re home.” Is all she says in explanation of her clingy behaviour, her voice small.

 

“Me too. You know that. I love you with all my heart.” His words somewhat appease the frightened bird that’d taken up residence in her chest. He moves his hands to cup her face, “It’s like being without half of my soul.” And, oh, she just has to kiss him again upon hearing that.

 

After a few moments more of languid, easy kisses, she finally moves off of him and gets up to retrieve his underwear, knowing he prefers that to sleeping nude. She carefully avoids the small handmirror on her bureau, knowing her hair must look a fright, even after she carefully braided it before they began.

 

Jack slides down the bed so that his head is resting on the pillow, their quilt thrown open in invitation to her and she quickly slips under the comforting weight.They find each other again and she cuddles close, resting her ear over his heart.

 

“Goodnight darling.” She nuzzles her nose into his chest, warm and happy and safe.

 

“Goodnight, my darling.” He sighs contentedly and brings a hand up to pet her hair, wild as it is.

 

Maybe tomorrow she will tell him that she suspects that they will be choosing names together sooner than they planned.

**Author's Note:**

> Um, obviously please don't use actual metal handcuffs (especially old timey ones), plus you should talk more about boundaries (and include a safe word in that discussion) before embarking in any sort of BDSM but this is set in the 1910's and I thought I was kinda stretching it as it is.


End file.
